


Southwestern Chief

by Naoe



Series: Here for the Ride [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Falling In Love, Fluff, Gay!Castiel, M/M, Trains, Union Station, bisexual!dean, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2256336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naoe/pseuds/Naoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is on his way back from Sam's wedding, when he meets a gorgeous blue-eyed man on the Southwestern Chief. Trains are perfect for falling in love...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Southwestern Chief

It started at Union Station.

 

Dean hated LAX and LA and everything to do with palm trees and movie stars. But his stupidly smart brother had decided to start his law career in LA, under the careful eye of Joshua Ahren, CEO for Ahren, Griggs, and Cohen.

 

Not only had his gigantor little brother gotten a position at a prestigious firm, known for its work with humanitarian causes and international law, but he had gone off and met a gorgeous woman to round out his life. Jessica Moore was beautiful, brilliant, and everything that Sam wanted in a woman. Dean was happy for him, and even more so this past week. After years together at Stanford and after, they got finally got married. Frankly, Dean didn’t even know how Sam had managed it after the Ruby fiasco. Sure, they had been separated at the time, but still, Ruby was a persistent bitch who had hung around long after Sam had quit the drug scene and her. Good-bye to bad rubbish. She nearly cost Sam his career, the woman he genuinely loved, and his life. Dean had rarely wanted to stab a bitch, but if he ever went down for murder, Ruby would have been at the top of his “worth it” list.

 

The fact Sam and Jess had gotten through that even stronger impressed the shit out of Dean. He didn’t think he had ever loved anyone that much. When Cassie broke up with him, he had just turned tail. When Anna ran off, he just picked up the pieces and kept going. He didn’t even count Aaron, his so-called “gay thing.” But it wasn’t really a “gay thing.” He had really enjoyed being with Aaron. Sure, it was mostly sex and staying baked, but it still had been something for a whole month. Then there were the endless sex partners he picked up at bars, none of whom he stuck around to exchange numbers with the next morning.

 

So here he was, in Union Station, waiting in the oversized armchairs for his train, the Southwestern Chief, to board to Lawrence, all alone. He would have driven the Impala, but everyone (Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Ash… everyone) had wanted to go together, and they met up at Missouri’s house in Lawrence to take the train. Dean had bitched and whined about being separated from his Baby, but Ellen had smacked him upside the head and fixed an eye on him, and that was that. Ellen had a mean upswing. He also noticed Missouri giving him _the_ eye, and he clammed up both his thoughts and his lips about women and all their shit. Dean had just helped take the ungodly amount of luggage to the station (“Women _need_ clothes for any occasion, Dean.” “Shut up, Jo. Carry your own girly make-up bag, damn it. And do you really need a bag _just_ for shoes?”), sharing put upon looks with Bobby and Ash.

 

He was thankfully returning alone because Sam had asked him to take care of their Labrador Retriever Bones while they went on their honeymoon. And he had taken care of the dog (although he really didn’t like dogs) like a proper brother, while also enjoying the bars and hot people of LA.

 

He hadn’t gotten that much ass in ages. Apparently the good looks that had gotten him far in Lawrence and Sioux Falls worked even better in the snotty, looks-obsessed world of LA. Whatever. It had won him a few threesomes and a couple of blow jobs in the can of the bar. Worth the objectification.

 

Still, sitting in the rather warm cavern that was Union Station was making him sleepy. The crowds flowed through, sometimes huge, sometimes just a trickle, but it was never dead. There were people out in the courtyard, enjoying the California sun, but Dean had had enough of it. He just wanted to go home to the drier air of Kansas and the awesome a/c and privacy of his Baby.

 

He had parked himself towards the front of the lounging area, facing the main entrance, slouched down, his earbuds in and playing a Metallica playlist, when he saw him. The guy was around his height, but his hair was dark and unruly, his aviator sunglasses hiding his eyes. He looked a bit lost, his carry-on bag and briefcase carefully balanced as he eyed the train schedule somewhere above Dean’s head. Dean noted the full pink lips, the straight nose, and the fine cheekbones, but he couldn’t miss the collarbones that peeked out from under the royal blue dress shirt that was being pulled by the carry-on bag, or the lightly tanned forearms revealed by the rolled up sleeves.

 

The guy frowned and walked towards the information desk.

 

He was extremely good looking. Dean wondered if he was one of those famous LA stars or something. But then Metallica’s “Fuel” howled through his ear buds, and he found himself drowning in Hammett’s guitar and Hetfield’s voice, hot mystery man forgotten.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Dean hated boarding. It was a scramble of people all trying to push their way to their seats, carry-ons bucking and bouncing against each other, children whining, and old people moving at snail paces.

 

He found himself on the second level, his seat in the aisle, and at the front of the car, meaning there were no seats in front of him; there was just a bar to settle his feet on. It was nice to have the leg room, but he didn’t have a table and the plug to recharge his gear was next to the window. He’d have to pray his seat mate wasn’t a douche.

 

He was just getting himself settled in, feet on the rest, the last Game of Thrones book (thank you Charlie) and a bottle of water next to him, when a strip of flesh came into view, revealing two gorgeous hipbones bracketing a light treasure trail of dark hair leading into some dark wash jeans as the guy stretched to put away his carry-on bag. When Dean looked up, he found himself face to face with Mr. Aviator sunglasses, except now they were sitting on top of the fluffy dark sex hair and had revealed a pair of absolutely stunning blue eyes. Dean actually lost all thought for a moment as he looked into those sky blue eyes, and the guy coughed and smiled politely, pointing towards the window seat.

 

“Uh, I believe that’s my seat over there.”

 

Dean nodded slowly, mesmerized. That was his seat, alright. Right next to Dean. With nothing to separate them. Yep.

 

Dean was quickly falling into hot and heavy thoughts about those hip bones, when the guy pointedly looked at Dean’s feet, where they were firmly sitting on the foot rest. Dean realized he was blocking the way with a start. Embarrassment flooded his face, and he clumsily shifted and moved his feet with a small bang. If the guy noticed his embarrassment, he didn’t say anything. He settled into his seat with his briefcase, muttering darkly about the lack of table.

 

Dean tried not to stare at the guy’s profile, and managed to wait until he looked relatively settled before stretching out a hand. “Dean Winchester,” he said, smiling his patented to win hearts (and groins) smile. “I guess we’ll be seat mates for this journey.”

 

The guy arched a dark eyebrow, a small smile peeked out from those pink full lips. Dean could see now they were just slightly chapped, but they still looked so plush and just plain kissable he couldn’t stop himself from licking his own lips.

 

He could feel the bright blue eyes track his tongue, even as a slim hand grasped his in a slightly cool handshake. “Castiel Novak,” he said, and hot _damn_ if that voice didn’t go straight to Dean’s dick. It brought to mind some of his favorite porn, when the guys were just so close to coming, and holy fuck this guy wasn’t even sexually excited and he sounded like he was about to come. What the hell would he sound like when he actually came? Dean suspected it would sound like angels singing, the purr of his Impala being revved, the hot howl of his favorite singers, and he stopped himself from getting too excited because, what the fuck Winchester, he was just shaking his hand.

 

He swallowed heavily, his eyes caught in the high beams of those impossibly blue eyes, and he said, “Where are you headed?”

 

Castiel blinked at him for a moment, his head tilted slightly as if he were trying to figure out what Dean wanted with the information, and then replied, “Lawrence, Kansas.”

 

Dean grinned. “Me too.” He tested the waters. “Are… are you from Lawrence?”

 

Dean doubted it. Although the city was fairly large, he suspected a hot piece like his seat mate would have made waves. Serious waves. Possibly tsunamis.

 

“Uh, no. My sister lives there. She asked me to come visit.” He sighed. “I have the suspicion she wants me to move there.” He stopped and a frown made its home between his brows, a small unhappy curl in the corners of those lush lips.

 

That was the least thing Dean wanted, so he threw out, “I live in Lawrence, well, I do now, after my dad died.” He shrugged. “I mean, my dad inherited the property from my mom’s parents, and I live there now. It’s a decent place.”

 

Blue eyes squinted at him. “Only a decent place,” he asked flatly. “Perhaps you’re overselling it.”

 

The suspicion made Dean chuckle. “It’s not LA, that’s for sure,” he laughed. “No movie stars. No bright lights. The only palm trees are the painted ones on the wall of our best Mexican restaurant.”

 

Castiel nodded. “I can live without palm trees,” he said solemnly, and they both chuckled for no real reason.

 

They were getting to know each other when the train driver announced they were about to leave the station, and the train attendants announced they were taking reservations for seats in the dining car for dinner.

 

Dean paused in his retelling of why he was on the train at the announcement, and, taking his courage in hand, he said, “Um, Cas, could I interest you in dinner in the dinner car?”

 

A smile lit up those bright blue eyes, like lightning flashing through a Kansas summer sky, and he asked, “Cas?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” he replied, rubbing a hand self-consciously behind his neck. “Castiel is a bit of a mouthful. I hope you don’t mind..?”

 

Cas squinted and tilted his head again before smiling and nodding at Dean. “No, it’s fine. It’s better than being called ‘Cassie’ by my brothers.”

Dean let out a breath he didn’t even know he had been holding. “And dinner?”

 

“I would be honored to have dinner with you.”

 

Dean did a mental fist pump and “HELL YEAH,” but outwardly he smiled charmingly and said, “Wonderful. I’ll go make the arrangements.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

Cas was surprisingly easy to talk to, Dean realized. He listened attentively, asked good questions, and was basically great company.

 

Dean found out that Cas was an accountant in LA, that he had a thing for bees and cats, and that he had four older brothers and a sister.

 

Dean revealed he was the oldest (and best) brother, pride surging when he spoke about Sam and all his accomplishments, and that he was an Aquarius, enjoyed sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women.

 

The last made something flicker through the blue eyes, but Dean smiled and winked. “I actually don’t really like the beach all that much…and I enjoy frisky men just as much.”

 

Surprise flashed over Cas’s face before a rush of color crawled up his face. He poked at his herb chicken with his fork, and Dean couldn’t help smiling at his discomfiture. “What about you,” he asked abruptly, pushing around the veggie medley that had come with his Signature Steak (which was just this side of okay, expensive as hell, but considering the company, totally worth it).

 

“I… I had a boyfriend until last year,” Cas said slowly, not looking up. The fork started to poke at the rice pilaf rather aggressively, and Dean had a suspicion that it was not a good break up. It was confirmed when Cas added with a thread of anger, “He left me for some underwear models.”

 

Dean let a low whistle escape his lips, and, without thinking, dragged his forefinger under Cas’s jaw and chin, forcing him to look up at him. “Sounds like a douche, but… hey, his loss…”

 

Uncertainty fought a smile on Cas’s face, the tiny smile winning when Dean grinned at him, and he let his thumb brush over Cas’s bottom lip briefly. It was as soft as he had thought, and he had to stop himself from pushing his thumb between those plush lips. It was even worse when he realized that Cas was watching his face, pupils dilated, breath hitched in his chest. He released Cas quickly, and bent over his not-so-great steak. At least the baked potato was awesome; it’s hard to mess up a baked potato.

 

Dean moved to safer topics, like his job as a mechanic, and his part-time job as a musician. Cas listened attentively to Dean’s enthusiastic discussion about bands Cas had never heard of, and Dean could wax poetic forever about Metallica, Led Zeppelin, and Kansas.

 

When they returned to their seats, night had stolen over the train, and the lights had been turned down to a soft glow. They curled into each other, and Dean was glad he had brought a large ass blanket (even if Sammy had laughed at him; the train was fucking cold) and talked even more. Dean was shocked to find Cas had seen very few movies. Cas was appalled to find Dean had never really cared about charities and the environment.

 

It was just as Cas was going off about how the bees were dying off, and how humans would all die without them that Dean found himself kissing him.

 

It was not a conscious thought. The blue eyes had lit up with wonder, making them innocent and beautiful. His face, generally a little hard to read, had become animated and impassioned, causing his eyes to crinkle slightly at the edges, and a small frown to form on his smooth forehead. His hands, generally making small gestures to illustrate his point, sudden opened up his body language, and formed big ideas about the earth, the environment, and humans.

 

He was gorgeous, passionate, and so smart. Dean watched those lips form the words “honey” and “pollination” and if anyone had ever told him that those were two of the sexiest words a man could say, he would have scoffed and went on his way.

 

But those lips framed the words, and, before he knew it, he was kissing those lips.

 

He felt Cas’s surprise, and he vaguely worried he was about to get rejected and, possibly (deservedly), punched for being so aggressive.

 

But Cas melted underneath his kiss, and opened up to him. Dean could barely stand it; he tasted as good as he looked. In the darkness, he pulled Cas closer, a hand in his hair and another at the space between his shirt and jeans, touching the warm skin there with hungry fingers, brushing over those hip bones like he could map them by touch alone. He felt Cas wrap his knees around his, and they only stopped kissing when the door between cars suddenly banged open with a low grunt of hydraulic air, revealing a slightly scandalized middle-aged woman ambling through on her way to the observation deck.

 

Dean didn’t care, but Cas ducked slightly beneath the blanket, and Dean let him. Cas didn’t let go of Dean; if anything, his fingers played with the edges of Dean’s t-shirt and flannel, but he definitely seemed embarrassed.

 

Heaving a sigh, Dean ducked beneath the blanket as well, and tilted Cas’s head up again. When the blue eyes finally looked back at him, Dean said, “I’m sorry. But, seriously, you’re too fucking hot, and I sort of lost myself. I didn’t mean to just… well, attack you like that.”

 

Cas shook his head, his eyes looking away from Dean again, and he muttered, “Don’t be sorry. I… well… I’m very attracted to you. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I sat down.” His summer eyes peeked up through dark lashes, and even the low lights through the blanket were unable to completely shadow those brilliant blues.  “But I’m not looking for a fling,” he admitted finally, his hands twisting in the edges of the t-shirt a bit.

 

Dean took those fine and slightly cold hands in his, rubbing warmth into the fingers, and murmured, “Since the moment I saw you in the station, I thought you were ungodly hot, but getting to know you has been awesome… and… if it’s okay… I really would like to get to know you better. Is that okay, Cas?”

 

Cas looked into his eyes, searching for something. He must have found something he liked, because, instead of answering him, he leaned up and kissed him chastely. “I think I would enjoy that,” he said, settling into the groove between Dean’s shoulder and neck, searching out his warmth.

 

Dean grinned, pulled him as close as he could on the seats, and kissed the top of his head. “Awesome.”

 

Curled together, they finally fell asleep beneath the blanket, and finding warmth between them.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

Dean groaned under the weight of the box he was carrying. “Shit, Cas. What the fuck is in this thing? Lead bricks?”

 

Cas looked up from where he was sitting on the floor of living room. The blue eyes scanned the box, and he chuckled as he stood up to help his boyfriend. “Not lead bricks. Just a lot of books.”

 

Dean grinned at him as Cas attempted to take the box. “Un-uh,” he said, pulling the box out of reach. “I think I can handle a few tons of books.” He grunted slightly as he hefted the box. “Even if it squashes and kills me,” he muttered.

 

Cas smiled back, and kissed Dean lightly. “I’ll make it up to you later,” he said, his low voice going an octave lower and making Dean shiver.

 

“Oh you better,” he growled back, turning to carry the box upstairs with a grunt. He yelped when Cas groped his ass, and walked off grinning. Dean watched the fine jean-clad ass walk back over to the box of stuff he had been sorting, and a sappy grin took over his face as he slowly hauled the box up the stairs.

 

Cas had decided to make the change and move to Lawrence with his sister. She had somehow managed to convince him LA was a toxic environment for him, and if he had ulterior motives, he didn’t tell her.  After that, it had taken six months of Dean’s persistent wooing to convince him that Dean was serious about him. Apparently Cas’s ex-boyfriend Balthazar had left him for a more debauched life, where a ménage à whatever the hell the word for twelve was in French was more pleasing than a steady boyfriend. It seemed Balthazar had also been cheating on Cas on and off for months in their on again, off again relationship of two years.

 

It had taken Dean swearing off women (on the only thing that mattered: the Impala), introducing Cas to his entire extended family as his “boyfriend,” and his declaring his love to convince Cas to give him a chance to make an honest man out of himself. It had taken another couple of months, and Anna’s kicking Cas out because she was sick and tired of listening to them have sex or catching them in compromising positions in her house, before Cas had agreed to move into Dean’s house.

 

Dean was happy. Unbelievably happy. It made him nervous, he was so happy. So if he worried a bit as he put the box down in the spare bedroom (he had added extra shelves just for Cas), he figured it was okay. Nothing good ever really happened to him. It made him nervous.

 

“Dean, are you okay?” Cas walked in, concern on his face. He was wearing one of Dean’s band shirts, an old Led Zeppelin shirt he had washed thin, and it fit him just a bit big. Fortunately, his jeans made his ass look perfect. Dean couldn’t help it; Cas looked adorable in his clothes, and it gave him some sort of feeling of ownership to see him in it.

 

Ignoring the zing of lust that just looking at Cas gave him, Dean stretched his back, pulling his arms above his head, and groaned with the slight ache in his shoulders. “Yeah, fine.”

 

He didn’t miss the hungry look Cas was giving him as his shirt rose high and revealed his stomach and hip bones. He didn’t say anything, but licked his lips, watching Cas track the motion with his eyes. And he sure didn’t complain as Cas all but tackled him onto the bed and proved that trains weren’t the only thing he liked to ride.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love trains. I was on the train from Union Station (LAX, although I have also been at the one in Chicago) when I thought of this scenario, and it ended up brief and fluffy. I'm glad because I am, at heart, an angsty bitch.
> 
> Also... the train ride would have taken around 33.5 hrs, so there would have been a lot of time to get to know people. A lot of people. People who talk to you and offer you food, and ask you questions and you're sort of, "Um, reading...?" 
> 
> Sometime not even headphones can stop the social interaction. Believe me, I tried.


End file.
